


life of the party

by blancnotes



Series: in between the yearbook years [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, House Party, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan is a Little Shit, M/M, Na Jaemin is Whipped, Party Games, Pining, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blancnotes/pseuds/blancnotes
Summary: Jaemin’s weekends are a routine built out of years of practice and it all comes crashing down one cursed Saturday night.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Na Jaemin
Series: in between the yearbook years [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849690
Comments: 12
Kudos: 110





	life of the party

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this was previously uploaded as part of my other ao3 acc's work (senapi's spring of youth) but i deleted it due to personal issues. anyway, i just ended up rewriting and editing the idea for one of my favorite nct ships, and i do plan on publishing new fics for more fandoms soon!! meanwhile, you can follow me on my twt: [@_blancnotes](https://twitter.com/_blancnotes) bc sometimes i post random au and ao3 ideas there too aha (✯◡✯)

Jaemin’s weekends are a routine built out of years of practice and it goes like this: 

Every Saturday night, he would make a pillow fort and binge all the weekend drama reruns. If the house across the street gets too rowdy with their weekly parties, he'd knock and politely tell them to keep it down. Some inebriated teenager will slur a string of apologies, maybe splash rum on his shirt if a greater unknown force is feeling spicy, and proceed to shut the door in his face. By the time he's perched back on the couch, their trashy pop playlist fades into the muted background, and he'll watch all the gratuitous kissing scenes play out in peace.

This time, however, there's a bunch of red hair nestled behind the doorknob, a tanned, familiar face popping out shortly after.

_Lee Donghyuck_ , if Jaemin remembers correctly. The smiley junior from AP Philosophy who danced to Lady Gaga for their self-expression assignment.

“Na Jaemin, my dude!” Never has Jaemin met anyone this genuinely excited to see him. “Nice to have you drop by! Come in, come in.”

And really, it should have ended at that. Jaemin should have flatly refused and bid his goodbyes the moment he's passed a red solo cup after stepping on the doormat. He doesn’t even have to spare a glance to know that it’s Donghyuck's godforsaken mix of vodka and rum. It smells downright like piss and probably tastes like it, too. 

_Abort mission. Abort mission._

With feet already poised to run, Jaemin opens his mouth to make an excuse of leaving, pushing his glasses higher just for the serious effect. But Donghyuck, silly Lee Donghyuck that Jaemin swears to throttle one day, appears to be stronger than he looks, wiry arms already gripping Jaemin’s shoulders to drag him to a circle of more visibly wasted teenagers.

“Guys, this is my friend, Nana! Be nice to him, alright?” 

A chorus of agreement echoes. It’s surprisingly in harmony for a bunch of drunk kids.

But if Donghyuck is doing this to put him at ease, it doesn’t really work. Jaemin hardly knows these people—half of them he greets in passing but the names don't stick in mind—or even Donghyuck, for that matter. The most interaction they've probably done is when the older boy asked him to play any song for his last minute dance club audition and resident tech booth boy Jaemin proceeded to blast Hips Don’t Lie.

In Jaemin’s defense, his playlist was on shuffle.

And Donghyuck managed to bag a solo stage for the dance showcase anyway so, case closed, God faithfully delivered.

“Listen up, fucknuts, gonna spin one more round before I run off to piss!”

The raspy voice of Huang Renjun, another junior and Donghyuck’s rumored boyfriend, pierces through the music. There are faint murmurs of excitement and slurred cheering, but Jaemin can't hear much over the pounding crackle of the speakers, only one sentence barely registering in his brain.

“The bottle landed in front of Jaemin!”

He feels his brain promptly grind into a halt.

_Oh hell no, no, no, fuck no, no no._

In a haze of shock-induced panic, his drink ends up spilling into a blonde girl's lap, who squawks in indignation. And just as he turns to apologize, Donghyuck and Renjun are bounding over with matching sinister grins, hoisting Jaemin off his feet and into a nearby closet.

Jaemin should be concerned, really. Either he's getting too skinny to be thrown around like a ragdoll, or drinking can miraculously provide enhanced strength. It's probably the second time he's being mauled into a place forcibly, all in one single night.

But then his eyes meet pitch black and the deafening silence, flickering between what he makes out to be carved wood and wool coats. Not a single sniff of alcohol wafting around that he decidedly figures, _this isn’t too bad._

He could probably stay here for a few minutes, then slip out when everyone's all giggly and tipsy. They wouldn't even notice him leaving by then. He could just file an anonymous complaint to the police by morning and this will remain in his memory as a fever dream. 

Perfect. Now all he has to do is sit and wait for time to pass, then he'll sneak out and—

“Fucking _hell,_ I swear you're going to get it as soon as I get the fuck out of here!”

A boy suddenly stumbles inside with the same haste from Donghyuck and Renjun’s manhandling. Except he lands head first and Jaemin visibly winces from the loud thump. It must’ve been really loud, enough for Donghyuck to hear because his obnoxious cackling rings from outside, yelling something along the lines of _“sucks to be you, lover boy”_ that the poor stranger only ignores.

“Lover Boy” stranger spends a good few minutes twisting himself around to a more comfortable position, in which Jaemin appropriately responds, but mostly out of fear of any unwanted groping, by tucking himself into the other end of the closet as much as he can.

When he’s finally folded his knees properly, he turns to Jaemin with a heavy sigh.

“Hey there,”

Even with glasses on, Jaemin could only faintly trace the guy's features. There's a small amount of light slipping from one of the holes in the closet, so he cocks his head to the side, squinting, and sees doe eyes and cheekbones and—

— _of fucking course_ , he's stuck with Mark Lee. _Of all people!_

Whatever cosmic power holding all the bad luck in the universe must have been walking around with a casserole, tripped, and unwittingly dumped it all on Jaemin.

“You’ve been real quiet, buddy. You doing good?”

Mark Lee. The bane of his existence since freshman year. A Canadian exchange student who only keeps to his tight-knit group of friends and walks around in an even tighter pair of jeans. The object of his affections after that one time he still had coconut hair and smiled at Jaemin when he offered to translate their school radio’s announcement.

_Shit._ Jaemin makes a disgruntled sound at the back of his throat. 

“Hey, uh, are you seriously not okay?” Mark looks vaguely concerned now and Jaemin resists the urge to laugh because _funny you should be saying that._

“I'm fine! Peachy! Just, uh, a bit disoriented from being pushed. Ha ha.” 

If he hears the crack in Jaemin's voice, he doesn't say anything. “I'm really sorry about that earlier. My friends are real assholes, if that wasn’t obvious. And I tried to escape but Hyuck was about to knee me in the balls and I conceded.”

He shifts closer, now only inches apart. And Jaemin knows it's only so the boy could make room for his legs, but he could almost hear the sirens blaring in his head. “It's okay. I mean, it's not your fault. People are shitty and this party is shittier. I shouldn't have bothered coming.”

This is it. The anticlimactic progression of his non-existent love story with Mark Lee. And instead of the shrill violin of You Are My Destiny echoing distantly with falling cherry blossoms, he gets cobwebs at his face and cursing from the other side, someone that suspiciously sounds like Renjun tripping on the carpet. 

And it's funny, really. How quick this night went downhill at the same time his mother happened to be out working. For all Jaemin knows, his house is unlocked and someone's robbing them blind. Even though there's not much to steal at the start anyway. The only thing he'd be willing to lay a punch for was his Pokemon trading cards. 

Mark, on the other hand, starts shuffling his feet. He makes a non-committal humming sound that vaguely stretches the tune of Taeyang's part in Loser, and out of the corner of Jaemin's eye, he could see him occasionally bobbing his head.

Jaemin starts singing along before he realizes it.

“Oh, you like Big Bang?” 

He visibly startles, falling silent. But Mark is painfully oblivious to his nervousness as he crawls closer. “They’re my favorite! These guys have been on repeat in my playlist since I was like, thirteen. The hyungs give me shit for singing Bad Boy in the shower, but we all know they’d scream along to every song on MADE when it plays on the radio.”

“Uh,” Jaemin's eyes blink once, twice, letting the words sink in his head before he finally breaks into a grin, albeit small. “Yeah. Yeah, I, uh, really love ’em. Fantastic Baby’s a bop.”

It might just be dark, but he could almost make out a faint grin on Mark's face.

“I mean, s’alright. Haru Haru’s still better.”

“No fucking way!” Jaemin gasps, scooting farther in dramatic disbelief. “Everyone knows Fantastic Baby! Yeogi buteora was even written in the bible!”

“Oh,”

A beat of silence. Heavy, awkward pause. Jaemin still can’t discern much of a clearer view. He can only guess that the older boy is gaping at him, probably from his outburst when he’d initially been so hesitant to speak. But before he could even stammer an apology, Mark suddenly launches into a fit of giggles, throwing his whole body forward as he tries to repress his barely-contained amusement. 

“Bible,” _wheeze,_ “holy shit, you’re right. G-Dragon is rewriting history as we speak.”

For all of Jaemin’s concerns earlier, he follows suit with his snickering not long after. 

“Honestly, I can’t believe we were fortunate enough to be born at the same time he’s alive.”

There's this small part of him that wonders if they're clinically insane for laughing at a lukewarm joke, but then again, this is a boy he’s been pining after for years now and there are other things to be more concerned about. 

_Because this isn't the way it's supposed to be_ , Jaemin nearly screams. He's used to staring at Mark from the cracks of the library window, from the tech booth at every recital, watching him spear through the auditorium with his guitar or laugh with his stupid friends at the hallway.

Now the boy's sitting next to him in some ratty old closet, knees brushing while Jaemin wipes his clammy hands on his equally ratty sweatpants. And now that he’s got a taste of what happiness could look like, he’s scared he'll start wanting, fingers grasping for a lot more than he could possibly take hold, and it'll all come crashing down once he wakes up on Monday morning and Mark passes by without so much as a glance.

“You can go home if you want.” The lilt of Mark’s voice brings him back to reality. “I can call for someone to open this and you can leave. We don't have to kiss or anything since we were forced into this stupid game anyway.”

“I mean, would that be okay?” This is the chance of a lifetime and he's throwing it all away. But he figures if he wants to kiss Mark Lee, it shouldn't be because of an impromptu round of Seven Minutes in Heaven. “Donghyuck looked pretty happy dragging me inside, but I just honestly want to watch dramas right now.”

Mark only snorts. “Don't be fooled. He's like that with everyone. Thinks it's good for word of mouth or something if you drag every living soul into a party. And this isn’t even _his house_.”

Jaemin doesn’t know if he should be relieved or offended.

“But yeah, don’t worry, I'll get you out of here.” Mark clears his throat, leaning forward in an attempt to knock on the wood.

Except when he’s on his knees, full weight pressing on the closet doors, Donghyuck swings it open and his smiling face comes into view.

“Okay, lovebirds, time’s up!”

Well, that certainly didn't feel like seven minutes.

Jaemin visibly winces from the sudden brightness as Renjun helps him out of the closet, Mark only grunting from where he's fallen on the floor. He tries not to listen to everyone's groans of disappointment and heavy stares, choosing to focus on getting his right footing instead. And somewhere in between the awkward seconds of his stumbling, Mark has managed to haul himself up, hand curling around his wrist when Donghyuck starts giving them a once over. 

“Ugh, as expected of virgins, they just do vanilla,” He gestures offhandedly to Jaemin’s bare, spotless neck that has the boy flushing. 

Meanwhile, Mark’s grip only grows tighter, “Hyuck, mind if we go and head out for a while?”

Donghyuck’s eyes narrow into slits, darting suspiciously between the two of them. “Wow, Mark Lee. I knew you were thirsty for the boy like some worm on asphalt but I didn't know it was _this_ bad.”

_Wait what?_

“It’s not like that, oh my god, this is stupid. _Bye_.” Mark starts darting to the door with a confused Jaemin in tow, Donghyuck’s indignant cries fading in the background as they weave through the crowd. 

It’s a bit hard to maneuver with all the bodies bouncing everywhere, but eventually, they manage, with Mark occasionally dodging at every _“hey!”_ thrown at him.

“Please just ignore Donghyuck. I’ll walk you home, okay?” He sighs as soon as they reach the door, hands brushing over the bangs that fan his forehead and Jaemin’s heart absolutely did _not_ skip. Not one single bit. “Honestly I’d love to talk more, but you want to go home and I’d have to go back and stay here ’till the party ends anyway.”

“No need to walk me home I, um,” Jaemin meekly points to the view behind him, “live right across this house so it’s just twenty steps max, I guess.”

“Lucky you, ‘cause I got no other choice here,” Mark's expression morphs into something akin to disgust. “Someone's got to watch out for these guys before they land in juvie. Last time I ditched them, Hyuck thought he was Jesus and tried to walk on water. And someone filmed Injun rapping to the beat of the vacuum cleaner. _God_ , I just hope we get to go home in one piece. I'd rather not be pushed to the pool when I’m wearing jeans again. _Wait,_ sorry, I'm rambling.”

“It's okay. I like listening to your voice.” Jaemin manages a small smile. 

Is that too forward? That's pretty lowkey, right? Since they’re pretty much closet bros now and he can dish out a compliment with subliminal non-platonic intent. 

Pause. _Closet Bros._ His brain is venturing into the uncharted homosexual territory of actually talking to boys and he’s not entirely prepared for that just yet.

_“So,”_ Mark chuckles, grip (disappointingly) loosening. “I'll just see you at school then, Na Jaemin?” 

Jaemin, bless his feeble heart, _really_ tries not to hang onto false hope, but he can’t help but think of how Mark’s hand brushes for a second too long at where it used to be clamped around his wrist.

“I hope you get to enjoy your weekend without Hyuck’s construction music disturbing this time.”

He lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

“Uh, yeah. I hope so too.”

And just like that, the rest of the night whirls past him like a dream coming to an end. 

Mark still lingers by the doorway with a smile so gentle that Jaemin nearly bursts into tears. But he swallows his sobbing to give a timid wave, trudging back to his own porch with warm cheeks and shaking hands, each step closer accompanied by the images of Mark that he commits to memory.

_The slope of his nose, the curve of his cheeks, the gleam in his eyes_ —

It's only when the door clicks shut in his face does realization dawn upon him.

“How the hell did Mark Lee know my name?”

**Author's Note:**

> listen!! usually i am an enthusiastic pitcher of the jaemin shameless flirt trope but just picture this: mark looking on with arms crossed and a grin as he closely watches nana walk to his door, and nana just waves him goodnight with sweater paws (from mark’s hoodie!!!!) and an equally enamored grin and yes i am ***incoherent screaming***
> 
> anyway, this was pretty fluffy, but hopefully i finish and publish this other markmin angst oneshot soon aha


End file.
